He glimpsed a part of her desk, and it looked perfectly healthy. Then he heard her make a small choking sound and he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to spin around and face him. “What’s wrong?” When she still didn’t answer, he pushed past her into the office, checking for any signs that a stalker had made his presence known in some sick and perverted way. All he found was a couple of boxes of belongings stacked in the corner. Oh. Realization hit him square in the chest.
She stood with her hands fisted at her sides, her beautiful face pale and her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“Is that your stuff in those boxes?”
“Yes.”
Before he could ask another question, a tall, skinny man with thinning pale-brown hair approached them, his expression outraged. Before he was even five feet away, he said loud enough for everyone in the entire office to hear, “What are you doing here? You were fired. Security should have escorted you up.”
Hicks took a menacing step forward, but Whitney held up her hand, stopping him, and turned to face the man. “Fired? That’s funny, because I still had a job here yesterday.”
The manager crossed his arms over his bony chest. It was a pitiful attempt to appear stronger and bigger, but it failed miserably. “I called your apartment and left a message. Sorry, but you have to leave the premises immediately.”
“Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. You had at will employment. I can terminate your position at any time.”
The man’s eyes widened as they darted behind Whitney and took in Hicks. It was evident he’d only just realized he was there. The bags beneath his eyes drew up, and he took a step back. “Who are you?”
“I have the same question.”
“I’m her boss. Was her boss. She has no right to be here.”
Hicks drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms, immediately disliking the weasel. “She has a right to collect her belongings,” he said with disquieting menace.
The effect wasn’t lost on the other man, who swallowed, his too-large Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long skinny neck. “She has to be escorted.”
“She is. By me.” Hicks took a step forward until he was hovering just behind Whitney. His posture was made stiffer and more intimidating because he could feel her trembling, and he knew from talking to her how much pride she took in her job, how much of a shock this must be. “You have a problem with that?”
Instead of answering Hicks, the guy shifted his gaze back to Whitney and stammered out, “Who is this? What’s he doing here?”
When Whitney glanced at him over her shoulder, Hicks realized she wasn’t trembling out of pure hurt. She was angry too. This man was not her friend, and he had never been. Wordlessly, Whitney stepped aside and said, “Why don’t you ask him yourself.”
That was all the invitation he needed. Hicks stalked forward until he and the thin man were standing toe to toe. “Do you have a problem with me?” he asked, looking down at him.
These were pure intimidation tactics, but he loved seeing this man cower. This obviously wasn’t his first attempt at bullying, but Hicks intended for it to be his last—at least as far as Whitney was concerned.
“I’ll call security,” the man said.
“I am the security.”
Hicks stared down at the man, letting him see every ounce of deadly intent in his being. And, like the weak link he was, the man broke eye contact and backed away, mumbling, “Make it quick. She doesn’t need to be in here for more than five minutes,” before he scurried into his office and slammed the door.
All the employees in the central office had stopped everything they were doing and were now staring up at him in open admiration. He didn’t acknowledge them. He didn’t care about anyone here but Whitney. By the time he turned his attention back to her, she’d already gathered up the two boxes. He took them from her before she could step out of the office, and knowing she needed to keep her pride; he followed her silently back into the elevator from which they’d just exited. The friendly security guard was gone, and their footsteps echoed with a hollow ring in the parking garage. He opened the back hatch of the Range Rover and put the boxes inside. Then he rushed around to open the door for her, sensing she was close to breaking.
Whitney dropped her hands onto the edge of the cargo hold and bowed her head. “Dammit.”
That single word was full of enough hurt and anger to push him past self-control, and he gathered her up into his arms like he’d wanted to do all morning. “I’m sorry.”
The words rang hollow in his own ears. They weren’t nearly adequate for everything that had befallen her in the past twenty-four hours. “I’m going to get your car back and find out who ransacked your apartment. When I get done with that, me and pencil neck up there will have a long serious talk.”
He wasn’t good at feelings or emotions or comforting, but he was good at his job. And it was the one way he could truly help her.
Whitney settled her head on his shoulder, and at that moment, he felt like he could stand here forever if that were what she needed.
“I’d say kick his ass first, then take care of the rest.”
“Bloodthirsty tigress,” he said with amusement. He loved that about her. She was full of so much passion, passion she obviously directed at whatever she cared about. And it was obvious she cared about her job and taking care of others.
How could he have ever compared her to her sister and thought her lacking?
“These must have been the shadiest two days of my life.” Whitney broke their embrace, and he immediately felt bereft. “Let me check the boxes and make sure that asshole didn’t try to steal any of my stuff.”
Curious, he watched as she moved items around, pulled some out and laid them to the side. She had books on pediatric nutrition, agricultural best practices, counseling…
“What are those for?” he asked.
She glanced over and then said, “When I first took the job, we were receiving donations from several different companies, some of which produced food sources that just didn’t seem right. But I didn’t know why, so I started reading up. These companies were trying to use their donations to Earth-4-One as a way to market their business and make it look like they were producing healthy food. But they stuffed their products full of carcinogens and preservatives. So, I revamped our program, made sure all of the people we were working with were providing the proper nutrition for these children.”
She’d attacked the problem head on and done everything necessary to turn something bad into something good. Shit, he had completely misjudged her.
“I knew it,” she snapped, looking up at him. “He took my folder.”
“Do you need it?”
“Yes,” she said with steel in her voice, “it has the list of contacts I personally cultivated and developed in the nonprofit world. I hadn’t planned on starting my own business until much later, but now that I’m out of a job it looks like I’ll have to start sooner than expected. That folder is the key. I had another copy stored on my hard drive, but there’s no way he’s gonna let me walk out with a desktop. I can set up everything the right way from the ground up, get rid of the waste involved in large companies like this one and direct a hundred percent of the resources straight to the people who need them most.”
Whitney made to step around him, but he blocked her path. “You’re not going up there again. Let me do it.”
“You?”
“I have no intention of letting you deal with that prick ever again. I promise you; he’ll give me everything you want.” Because he was very good at getting things from people, whether they wanted to give them up or not. You could call it one of his specialties—he’d been highly trained in the area of interrogation and information extraction. Bottom line: he really enjoyed making the bad guys squirm.
“Thanks, I really don’t want to see him again either.”
“Here, take the keys. I’ll be back in less than five minutes.” He handed her the
keys from his pocket and then made his way back toward the elevator bank. He pressed the button and then turned to watch her as she pilfered through her things some more.
Instead of crying or whining, which would have been understandable given the situation, she’d held strong, showing a resolve that most men lacked. He couldn’t help but admire her strength of will.
He definitely needed to rethink his assumptions about her. Maybe they could talk it through. But as soon as he got her safely back to headquarters, he intended to go to her apartment for clues. Anything he could do to bring a win to her side of the battle.
Hicks glanced at the security post, realizing the guard was still absent. She shouldn’t stay down here alone, not without some form of security. This was a good part of D.C., but the city still had one of the highest criminal records in the country. Maybe he could convince her to wait just outside the elevator while he handled the boss. Hicks took a step in her direction.
A black SUV parked in the back corner flicked on its lights. There was a sudden squeal of tires on pavement, and the vehicle gunned straight toward Whitney.
“Whitney, run!”
Whitney gave him a crazy look.
“Move now!” He pointed to the car barreling toward her. The blood drained from her face. The car would reach her before he could get there. Hicks sprang into action, running toward her as he ripped his sidearm from his holster.
His heart slowed, and his vision tunneled. He squeezed the trigger. Pop, pop. Two holes fractured the windshield of the SUV, and it veered sharply to the left. That seemed to be the push needed to jar Whitney into action. She started running toward him, fear plastered on her features.
The SUV righted its course, and the engine roared as it sped toward them again. Hicks planted his feet and braced his 9 mm in both hands. Pop. He took out the front tire. The SUV veered wildly out of control and then slammed into a blue van parked less than fifty feet away.
“Hicks!”
She dove, and he caught her in mid-air, wrapping his left arm around her and turning to use his body to shield her, his weapon still aimed at the car.
Smoke seeped from the crumpled hood. Silence, minus the hissing of the SUV’s now dead engine, was the only sound besides Whitney’s harsh breathing.
This wasn’t over yet. He could feel it in his bones. “Whitney, I want you to make a run for the elevator.”
“Hicks, no.” Her voice hitched as she said it.
“Trust me. This is what I’m good at. I need to know you’re safe. Now, run!” He pushed her behind him and started walking toward the SUV, gun raised.
The back door burst open, and a man in tactical gear jumped out, already firing his own pistol. The bullets chipped off the concrete past Hicks. He blew out his breath and squeezed the trigger. One bullet, one death. The man fell before he could take another step.
The driver’s side door crashed open, and with the vehicle between him and the attacker, Hicks couldn’t get a clear shot. He dropped to the ground, rolled on his side and fired off a round. There was a satisfying scream, and then the driver fell to the floor, grabbing his now shattered ankle. It would be easier just to kill him now, but Hicks needed information. He jumped to his feet and ran toward the crashed SUV. Just before he rounded the front, the rear passenger door opened and a third man dove from the vehicle, a semi-automatic rifle against his shoulder. Hicks dropped. Bullets whizzed right over his head. Machine-gun guy ran at the concrete, rolled and came up firing. The driver was still moaning in pain from the crash, so his number one target was the newest threat.
There was another wild burst of automatic gunfire, glancing off the corner of the SUV, the concrete, and the surrounding cars. Hicks did a quick peek around the corner and yanked back just in time. The guy was running toward the elevator. Toward Whitney.
The cold calm of battle rage settled over his shoulders like impenetrable armor. Idiot. This guy had no idea who he was fucking with. The man kept firing where Hicks had been standing, but he’d already jumped onto the bumper of the SUV. Chambered a round. Then he aimed and shot over the top of the vehicle. Bullets thumped into the back of the man’s skull, sending him sprawling, dead, across the pavement. Whitney curled into a ball against the elevator doors, her hands over her head.
Seeing her terrorized sliced through his heart. He’d have to finish this first and make it up to her later. He rounded the corner of the SUV.
The driver would talk, or he would die.
The driver, holding onto his ankle, didn’t even realize he was no longer alone on this side of the car.
“Hurts like a bitch, eh?” You could take down the biggest bad ass on the planet by shooting out his ankles or knees. Even an ordinary man could still run with a bullet in his leg or side, but not his ankle.
“I need a hospital!” the man wailed.
Hicks leveled his gun against the man’s temple, taking in the black suit and tie. He wasn’t a professional like the other two, but he wasn’t a civilian either. This was a professional hit. “You won’t need a hospital if you don’t tell me who sent you.”
“I don’t know. I was just the driver,” he moaned and grabbed at his leg, blood spilling from the open wound.
Hicks chambered a round and then pressed his gun against the man’s head again. “We both know that’s not true. You’ve got five seconds before I lose my patience.”
“Hicks?” Whitney appeared five feet away, pale and shaken.
“Whitney, get back!”
The driver lifted a small pistol he’d been hiding and aimed at Whitney. Her eyes grew huge. Hicks pulled the trigger.
The driver’s gun dropped, followed—an instant later—by his dead body.
Whitney slapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the front of the car. Hicks was there in a moment, pulling her hair back as she retched. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”
Dammit, what the fuck was going on? This wasn’t just a bad day for Whitney. Someone was systematically attacking her, and now they’d tried to wipe her existence from the planet.
Whitney stood, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, and he yanked her against his chest. “Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”
She shook her head and sobbed quietly. “N-n-no.”
“I’ve got you. Everything’s okay now.”
She sobbed and his chest clenched. An icy rage settled in his gut, hard and cold. They’d almost killed her. If that gunner had had any kind of aim, he would have taken her out. And Hicks would have been to blame: he’d let her lifestyle cloud his judgment. He’d assumed that she’d pissed off some sugar daddy.
With any other woman, he’d have analyzed the situation and reacted—but not Whitney.
Her hand curled into his shirt, like she was holding on to him as an anchor. “Hicks, I—”
“Shhh. I’ve got you now. You’re safe.” He glanced at the dead bodies around them without remorse. “C’mon, let me take you home.”
“What about them?” Her voice hitched.
“There’s nothing we can do about them now. The cops will be here any minute. We’ve got to scramble.” And when she was safely tucked away in the mansion, he’d demolish whoever had dared to attack them.
Hicks led her to the car, opened her door and put her inside the vehicle. Her sobs had quieted, but she had the shell-shocked look of a woman who’d seen more than she could handle.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Shit. There was no time for any cleanup. Hicks raced back to the bodies and ran his hands down their chests and pants. None had any I.D.
He yanked out his phone and snapped a picture of each of the bodies before booking it back to his car. He shut the door with a curse and yanked out his phone, dialing his team leader, Reaper.
“What?” Reaper answered immediately. “It better be damn important.”
“Whitney and I were just attacked in her work’s parking garage. Had to neutralize the threat. Left a mess. Three of them.”
“Shit,” Reaper said in a tone darker than usual, “Is it Rainier?”
Hicks fired up the engine, checked his rearview and drove to the exit of the garage. Whitney just stared sightlessly through the windshield, not even acknowledging that she’d moved. “No. They weren’t after me. They were after her.”
Hicks heard a little moan from the end of the phone and then the crinkling sound of Reaper covering the mouth piece.
“What’s going on over there?” Hicks asked.
“Caroline’s still not feeling right. Doc thinks she had a bad reaction to the last injection.”
Hicks checked the street and eased into the traffic, moving at the speed limit so as not to draw attention to them. The police cars wailed around the corner in front of him. He stared straight ahead. They blew past them and turned into the parking lot he’d just evacuated. Hicks released a breath. “The police are there now. I’ve got pictures. Have Juarez run them through facial recognition. We’ll be there ASAP.”
“Roger. Buzz if you have any interference.” Reaper disconnected the call first.
Hicks quickly texted the photos to him and then put down his phone, turning his attention to getting them safely out of the city. His every instinct screamed out for him to accelerate and haul ass, but he forced himself to go slow and take the least noticeable track.
When they reached the edge of the city, he chanced another look at Whitney, but she hadn’t moved. Hicks reached across the console and took her clenched fist into his hand. She was so cold. “Whitney, look at me.”
She didn’t blink. The possibility of her going into shock became a real and present danger. Hicks floored it—he needed to get her home. “Talk to me, Whitney.”
The trees of the countryside flew by in a green blur. He passed few vehicles this far out of town, for which he was thankful. A huge part of him wanted to pull over and take her into his arms, but it wasn’t safe. Only the compound was safe.
Hicks made it to the gate in record time, and after he punched in his code, every muscle in his body clenched as he waited for the doors to slide open. As soon as they were halfway across the drive, he floored it again, speeding down the driveway to the compound. Instead of pulling around to the garage, Hicks braked opposite the front door and killed the car. He jumped out and ran around and lifted Whitney into his arms.
Mayhem's Desire: Operation Mayhem Page 13
